


Outlaw Hearts

by CobaltStargazer



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Spoilers, Developing Relationship, Escape, F/M, Freedom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-04
Updated: 2016-11-04
Packaged: 2018-08-29 02:09:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8471467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CobaltStargazer/pseuds/CobaltStargazer
Summary: Depending on each other is what keeps them free.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [domilue](https://archiveofourown.org/users/domilue/gifts).



> This takes place in the same timeline as Barbed Wire and Roses, which you don't *have* to read for context, but it might help.

"Barton."

Someone was shaking his shoulder. Wanda was shaking his shoulder, trying to wake him.

" _Barton._ " Her voice was a hiss, an urgent noise. She'd turned on the bedside lamp, and he squinted against the light. 

"Uh?" 

The half-intelligent response made her snort impatiently, and she said, "There are police cars in the parking lot."

That woke Clint up, and he rolled away from Wanda's outstretched hand so he could get up. It didn't occur to him until he'd grabbed for his boots and halfway put them on that she'd been keeping watch. He'd ditched the car he'd stolen, parking in the lot of the public library, but the branch had been small enough that unfamiliar vehicles stood a good chance of getting spotted. The new 'borrowed' vehicle was parked on the other side of the building rather than in front of their room. As a precaution. He'd paid cash, leaving Wanda outside. No point in both of them risking recognition. The cheap digital clock said it was three-eighteen in the morning.

She was looking out the window, plucking at the tacky brown curtain that covered it. They'd discussed heading south, but chose to move west instead. Clint had mentioned Montana, somewhere close to the Canadian border where they could possibly slip out of the country if it was absolutely necessary. Wanda wasn't sure she cared where they went, just as long as she never had to wear a shock collar again. She'd used the car to back over the evil thing, first once, then twice, then a third time until it was in pieces. If she had to live as a criminal until this was cleared up, she would live as a free one.

"How many?"

Clint had his boots on by now. He could read the nervous tension in Wanda's posture and wished there was time to assure her it would be fine, but there might not be. He'd left his bow and arrows in the trunk, and the truth was he'd prefer not to have to shoot his way out of this. There was a diner across the road, where the two of them had eaten earlier. The news had been scant with details of their escape from the sea-bound prison, but if they'd been spotted they might have to get out of here fast.

"Two cars, two officers each. I can see their badges catching the lights from here."

She was mostly concealed by the curtain, one eye focused on the limited activity in the parking lot. If they came after them, climbed the metal stairs to the second floor, they'd have to fight free or be captured. She'd been keeping unofficial watch for most of the time they'd been running. Having the collar to worry about was great incentive to stay alert. They would not shackle her again. She'd die first.

"It's me they want."

He was in the bathroom, collecting things from the limited counter space, so he only half-heard her. "What?" He poked his head out into the other room, a T shirt over his shoulder and a partially full plastic bag in his left hand. "What'd you say?"

"I said it's me they want."

Wanda let go of the curtain, turned to look at the screen of the TV, which had been off since well before dark. Clint was half-in and half-out of the tiny bathroom, and he had the feeling he knew what she was going to say next. His expression shifted as he reached behind him and put the bag down. "Wanda..."

"We could split up," she said, avoiding his gaze. She'd felt guilty about it for a few days, dragging him along after her as if he was her caregiver. As if he owed her something. She knew he still carried the weight of Pietro's death, but she didn't want him to stay with her because he felt beholden. As much as she enjoyed his company, she was no albatross. "You could probably get away fairly quickly. I wouldn't slow you down if I wasn't with you. I'd be fine."

Clint rubbed his hand across his forehead, then dragged his fingers through his hair. The bitch of it was, she was probably right. Two people _were_ more difficult to catch if those two people weren't together. And Wanda wasn't a child. She didn't need him to hold her hand while she crossed the street or cut up her steak or make sure she got a nap. He looked at the curtained window, blew out a breath.

"No."

She stared at him in silence for a minute, then echoed, "No?"

Clint shook his head, tucking his hands into his pockets. He knew he was taking a risk, that she could _make_ him leave, but he stood his ground. She could have tampered with his brain a dozen times by now, more than a dozen times, and she hadn't. Compared to most of the Avengers, he was just a guy who was a pretty good shot with an arrow, and when he got hurt the wounds left scars. Wanda was still staring at him, and ridiculously it crossed his mind that they might be having their first fight. He let out a chuckle, tried to smother it. Her stare turned into a glare.

"It's not funny, Barton," she said tightly, waved at the window. "If they come for us..."

"If they come, I won't let them take us. _Either_ of us."

There was something hidden in his words, something he wasn't saying, and Wanda pried at the corners of it. They were wasting time. She looked over her shoulder at the window, and he continued to stand between her and the door. His tenacity - or stubbornness, take your pick - was his most enduring quality. His most admirable. And his most frustrating.

"Barton....Clint..."

"I've got a flare out to Nick Fury," he said. "He'll help. I'm sorry I got you into this. If I hadn't taken you out of the compound..."

"Shut up," she said, cutting off the clumsy attempt at an apology. She was both reluctantly mollified and amused, and it was difficult to fault him for being stubborn when she could be so mulish herself. Wanda took her eyes off of him long enough to go to the window, where she twitched the curtain aside. The police cars were still there, uniformed officers conferring in a small circle. The easy thing, the _familiar_ thing, would have been to interfere with their thoughts from here and send them on their way, but as tempted as she was to do it, she knew that it would only make people more afraid of her. Whatever she was, whatever she was becoming, she was only as dangerous as she let herself be. 

Clint hesitantly put a hand on her back, flattening his palm against her shoulder blade. She was as tense as a coiled spring, and they'd stopped touching one another at night in order to stay watchful. Declaring a mutual, silent moratorium on sex until this clusterfuck was over. But she reached over her shoulder with the opposite hand and covered his knuckles briefly, and his fingers flexed against the cloth of her shirt. 

After what seemed like forever, the first cop disengaged from the group, climbed back into his squad car. Under the fluorescent light in the lot, Clint could just barely make out that he was using his radio while the others continued talking. He could hear Wanda's breathing getting shallower, and his heart rate had picked up. But his voice was amazingly calm when he spoke into the silence. 

"They won't take you, Wanda. I promise, honey." 

It was the first time he'd called her that, and she felt certain it was an accident, but it touched some distant thing inside her, and she moved backwards a single notch. They wouldn't take him either. She'd see to it. 

Eventually, he said, "I think we should try to get out of here. It looks like they're not going anywhere, and if my guess is right they're waiting for orders or backup or both." The other police officers had returned to their cars, but neither vehicle had moved yet. Wanda looked at the clock. Ten til four. It was fall, and close to winter, so the sun wouldn't be up for a while. If they slipped away under the cover of darkness, they might make it out without being spotted. 

"Let's go now. Before they get too curious." 

They hadn't really unpacked, although they'd bought some extra things, and he stuffed clothes into his duffle bag while she found her shoes and finished getting what was theirs from the bathroom. Her adrenaline was going, but it wasn't wholly fear. She and Clint deserved to be free, and his friend Nick would help them. 

She shut off all the lights before they left, leaving the room silent and dark behind them. The two of them made their way past the flickering soda machine, the wheezing ice maker. He had unconsciously taken her hand before they reached the stairs, and he thanked whoever might be listening that the 'borrowed' car had had a full tank of gas when he'd hot-wired it. They would probably have to ditch this one soon enough, though. 

Clint put the vehicle into neutral once he was behind the wheel, because there was _just enough_ of a hill that they could get to the road without turning on the engine, and he could see Wanda twisting around in the seat to look for the cops. The night was chilly, and he hoped they'd elected to stay in their cars rather than move around. In the dimness of the interior, he felt her touch his hand, and her rings made slight indentations when he clasped her fingers. Now was the time for solace and comfort, if only briefly. He hoped Fury was the kind of guy who checked his email frequently. 

"We're gonna be fine," he said, and a cynical part of him knew he was a fool to promise her anything, but he couldn't _not_ say it. She was in this partly because of him, and as the Toyota he'd stolen finally reached the asphalt of the road, Clint carefully turned on the ignition and the headlights as he pointed it further west. S.H.I.E.L.D. had places to hide, places they could lay low until the trouble _really_ died down. And having to hide with Wanda....well, that was hardly a burden. 

Because she was no albatross. 


End file.
